


A Road Long Traveled

by RoboFlower



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, F/M, Immortality, Sad Ending, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22434925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoboFlower/pseuds/RoboFlower
Summary: Lyssandra spends the last few moments she has with her husband in the Rift.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Lucien Flavius
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	A Road Long Traveled

**Author's Note:**

> Mr. Russell how DARE you make me love this boy.

It is a warm day in the Rift. 

Lyssandra sits with her husband’s head in her lap, as she’s done many times throughout their marriage. She runs her fingers through Lucien’s hair, snow-white as it’s been for many years, though it’s still as soft and smooth as it was when she first did this. He still hums happily when she scratches his scalp, still smiles against her lips when she leans down to kiss him. His personality hasn’t changed a bit. ‘ _ Still my Lucien _ ’ she reminds herself, even on nights when he thinks he’s still in his twenties, even on nights when he asks how his long-dead parents are doing, even on nights when he doesn’t remember her. 

He’s a hundred and two, now. Memory only kept in place by spells and energy long lost to age. He hasn’t eaten for the past week, and she knows he’s dying. Lyssandra looks barely thirty and doesn’t feel a day over eighteen. The realization long stopped bringing tears to her eyes. 

“You’re thinking too much again, ‘Sandra.” Lucien mumbles, voice muffled against her thighs. 

“Just about how handsome you are,  _ varleth.”  _ She replies, enjoying the small chuckle he lets out at her sass. By all the Aedra and Daedra, does this man own her heart. Her smile fades when he takes her hands in his, and she can feel the coldness of his skin.

He’s going to die, she realizes. 

This is it. 

The dragonborn refuses to cry, simply squeezing his hands in hers and gives him another kiss and grin. 

_ “You are-”  _ he stops, interrupted by a cough,  _ “The brightest, strongest, most beautiful woman I have ever met. I am…” _

He smiles. She kisses him through his laughter. Her throat feels tight and her tongue feels heavy. Lyssandra can’t  _ not  _ bring him into her arms. 

_ “I am so, so, lucky to have married you, my heart.”  _

She laughs, her voice ringing through the red-orange-yellow forest and sailing up, up, up into the sky. 

“I love you,  _ varleth,  _ more than you will ever know.” 

Lucien laughs, too. Their voices join and carry a tune long memorized by time and by love. 

It is a warm day in the Rift. The birds are singing, the leaves are falling, the wind is blowing, the sun shines brightly down from above. 

It is a warm day in the Rift, and Lyssandra the Wolf smiles at the sun. 

It is a warm day in the Rift, and Lucien Flavius dies in the arms of his dragonborn. 

It is a warm day in the Rift, and the last-born of Akatosh weeps. 

She is alone, with only her memories and lingering warmth in her arms for company. 

Her head bows, and she listens to the birds chirp. 

**Author's Note:**

> I made myself cry wheeeee


End file.
